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“Fiona?”
She cringes, hand still on the doorknob, the latch pulled from the plate. It slips into place with an incriminating click. She turns with a smile, ears swept back. “Hey, sorry, I—”
“It's kinda late, isn't it?” Sonic asks, scrubbing at his face. Ears drooped in a sleepy stupor that she might've found adorable at one point, but now she doesn't want to see any part of. It's like seeing past the armor; shiny hero to confused boyfriend.
“Yeah. It is.” She doesn't have much else to offer him here anymore.
She needs to shower. She needs to go to bed before Sonic looks a little too closely. The ribbon usually in her hair stuffed in the wrist of her glove, all of it knocked loose by someone else's fingers.
“What were you—”
She walks past the couch he's crashed on and heads for the bathroom, shutting the door on their conversation. He'll be asleep again soon enough. He probably won't even remember their exchange regardless. Forgetful. It's something the others choose not to see, but she knows better than anyone how easy it is for Sonic to forget things. To leave something behind. A selfish streak hidden under the savior one.
She turns on the shower and checks herself in the mirror. Fur ruffled on her neck and shoulders, hair mussed up beyond being able to write it off as just the wind. Lips kiss bitten. Mascara smeared into her fur, eyes still damp from tears that had nothing to do with being sad about any of this. The complete opposite. An ache in her soothed. That usual pit in her chest a little bit quieter for now.
Why dontcha just cut ‘n run the loser? It's not like he'd friggin’ care.
She's learned by now that sometimes Scourge has trouble seeing the bigger picture. Like Sonic, they both sometimes forget the little things in lieu of themselves. But this isn't about either of them. It never was.
She pulls the yellow ribbon from her glove, the shower hissing behind her. It weaves through her fingers the same way Scourge played it between his own, pulling it from her hair and laughing as he caught it with his teeth.
I jus’ don't get what he can't see in you. You're the whole package, baby, Scourge breathed against the crook of her shoulder. His loss I guess.
Whenever she holds hands with Sonic, she doesn't miss the way Amy shoots her sour looks or the way Sally's eyes track them. There's a strange preening satisfaction to that, knowing she took something from them. Maybe that's why she liked working with Nic so much. There's always been something she can't shrug off when it comes to stealing someone else's stuff. They're so self assured that it'll never wander away from them. Never leave them. Never dig itself out of where it's been left behind. Maybe both of them just thought Sonic would never find anyone else. Maybe that was their first mistake.
She doesn't miss the way Tails looks at her either. Ever since the kid found the two of them by accident and Sonic had to finally face the fact they were dating and that his little sidekick would have to deal with it too. It's always that same sad, frustrated look. Longing. It's almost pitiful. The way puppy love crushes sometimes are. She knows Tails fell in love with an ideal of her anyway—some perfect, robotic version of herself. And when Tails looks at her now, she knows he's not seeing her. He's seeing the Fiona he wants to see. The one he wants her to be.
Even Sonic's eyes track over her like that sometimes, bright when she's done something he expected her to do—like bandaging up some chumpy Mobian who didn't get out of the way of another fight, the whole goody-two shoes routine—and then frowning and pinched when she steps outside of his careful understanding of her. Like when Bark and Bean had known her, when she'd shown her hand and Sally had snapped at her for it, demanding she explain herself when there was nothing to explain. She used to be a different Fiona and now she's this one. Simple as. She's just the Fiona who tries to shoulder all of their expectations and somehow still falls short every single time.
She drops the yellow ribbon on the bathroom counter. The mirror over the sink has become impossible to see, coated in steam the longer she stands there and stares at it. Just a blurred splotch of red against the tiles. Completely unrecognizable.
With Scourge, at least there's no expectations. No good this or bad that. She doesn't have to walk on eggshells and say the right thing or do the right thing. She can just breathe; he doesn't even care when she gets mean. He just laughs and rolls with it.
There's somethin’ seriously wrong with you, Scourge said after she jabbed him in the jaw for kissing her without warning. She had gone rigid at his words, and he laughed like he always did, cut up and wheezing at the ends. Fuck, babe, maybe that's why we work so friggin’ well together. She'd grabbed him by his stupid over-the-top jacket, flames under her fingers as she shoved him down into the grass and kissed him properly.
She peels off her gloves and her clothes and steps into the shower. She scrubs all of it away until she's raw under her fur, until she's left with just the Fiona she's supposed to be.
When she climbs into bed, Sonic's already there, curled up under the sheets. A hand brushes hers and she lets him thread their fingers together without a word.
She stares at the spread of food on the blanket. It feels almost like a consolation, though she's not sure for what anymore. Perhaps an attempt to keep making this work. A part of her feels like she has to at least try to maintain it. What kind of field medic would she be if she didn't try to mend this too? The other part of her thinks about Scourge regardless.
She lays on her stomach, chin perched in her hand as she looks at Sonic. It's a wonder that the two used to look almost exactly alike. If it wasn't for everything else that was completely different about them maybe she wouldn't have been able to tell them apart. But the longer she spends with both of them, the more she's begun to forget Scourge even used to be—
“Fiona?” Sonic asks, the way he always does now, with a tired tension to it.
“Hm?” She looks up from where she'd been drumming her fingers on the blanket. “Oh, sorry. Were you saying something?”
“Nah, was just wonderin’ if you wanted to try one of these. They're pretty good,” Sonic says, holding one of the assorted pastries out to her. A peace offering amongst all of this.
There's an urge, sudden enough that it's nearly startling, to grab it out of his hands and crumple it up, throw it at his feet, tell him that nothing will ever make up for being left behind to rot. That she can't just forget things like he can. That she doesn't have the privilege to forgive people the way he can either.
She smiles instead. She takes it.
She excuses herself from their date shortly after, packing a small bundle of food she writes off as for herself when it's anything but. She finds Scourge on the outskirts of Freedom HQ later, lingering under a tree, nearly malignant, like some growth off the side of it with the green fur. Sometimes she still finds herself missing the blue, and then she remembers why she didn't like it in the first place.
“I jus’ don't get it.” Scourge says, eyeing her from above his shades. “What's a gal like you doin’ hangin’ with a bozo like that?”
She shoves the bundle she carried over into his chest. While he fumbles with it, she grabs him by the scruff of his jacket and hauls him out of view of HQ.
“What's the big idea?!” Scourge barks. “Hands off the jacket, Fi—” He wrenches out of her grasp and grabs her by the wrist. “What's the matter with you?”
“With me?” She laughs. “You're practically standing on his doorstep. Do you want to get caught?” she asks, pulling her arm out of his grip.
He scoffs. “Says the chick givin’ Blue the one two see-ya-later every time he even blinks.”
She rolls her eyes and turns on her heel, heading further into the woods and away from prying eyes. The rest of the Freedom Fighters are a brand of nosy she doesn't need to tangle with at the moment.
“What the hell is this anyway?” Scourge asks.
She looks over her shoulder at Scourge holding up the small checkered bundle. “Food, genius. What else would it be?”
Scourge sneers. “I can feed myself.”
“Of course you can.”
Scourge growls under his breath. She doesn't hear him throw it away so he must have pocketed it despite his words. She doesn't know how she became surrounded by so many stubborn idiots, but it's no wonder Sonic and Scourge are cut from the same cloth.
“Where’s the fire, Fi? Seriously, who lit a fire under your ass, you're actin’ crazy.”
She speeds up just for that, a mean streak burning at the back of her neck.
“Un-friggin’-believable—” Scourge grabs her arm and yanks her around, boxing her in against a tree before she can even blink.
She shows her teeth up at him in a smile that's all try me. She smooths her hands over Scourge's shoulders and he presses against her, a knee hiking up between her legs, breaths hot against her muzzle.
“For the record ‘m not kissin’ you after ya just lip-locked Blue.” Scourge says.
“Aw,” she fake coos. “Afraid you'll catch cooties or something?”
“Tch, as friggin’ if. I jus’ don't want that idiot’s spit on me.”
“And here I thought you'd at least be a little bit interested in him, all things considered.”
“What's that supposed to mean?” Scourge asks.
“Seriously?” she asks, thumbs pulling at the shoulder straps of his leather jacket. “Overcompensation called, it wants its look back.”
Scourge shoves away from her and she laughs. “Ha-ha, yeah, yuk it up. You're the one rockin’ around in that dopey Frilly Fighters get up.”
She gives him a flat look and then cocks her hip, tail swaying around her ankles as she lids her eyes. “And here I thought you were a fan of it. Considering you couldn't wait to get it off me the first time.”
Scourge closes in again at that, hands resting on her waist and drifting lower, fingers slipping under where the body suit ends on her hips. “That's cuz you look better without it, baby.”
“That so?” she asks, leaning up until their muzzles are almost touching.
Scourge kisses her and even with this she can't help but compare the two of them. Where Sonic tends to turn into whichever way she's leading him, Scourge doesn't care. It's more fun like this, being challenged, having someone try to take the reins and then toy around with them a little. Even if Scourge would never ever admit he's anything but the one in control here.
She breaks off the kiss and smiles against the side of his muzzle. “What happened to not wanting Blue's spit anywhere near you?”
Scourge makes a disgusted sound. “Whatever. He's the one who can't stop mackin’ on my girl.”
A shiver crosses her shoulders at the growl under his words. She runs her fingers over the fur on Scourge's nape, claws tracing patterns on the back of his neck that makes him grab at her hips harder. The bravado is always there. She's pretty sure he can't stop playing at it the same way she can't seem to stop playing at the hero with Sonic and his friends. But sometimes she can tell there's something else underneath all of it. The soft underside of it showing when she worms her fingers into his fur and touches him in places she knows no one's ever touched him the same way before.
He always talks about his world the way he talks about everything else—the words out of the side of his mouth, jaw as clenched as his fists. Whenever she wraps her fingers around the back of his neck or rests them over his throat she knows he's only ever felt the same thing when someone’s tried to hurt him. Maybe there's a thrill in that. Holding him still against her like this and knowing, that for once, she's the one that could hurt someone else instead.
She blinks awake, her head pillowed on someone else's chest, scars rough under the fur of her cheek. It doesn't take a lot to figure out where she is. The arm draped around her, fingers lazily carded in her fur. She turns her face and rests her chin on top of the slow rise and fall of Scourge's sternum. It's rare to see him quiet like this. Almost vulnerable. His face slack without all the sharp teeth and rakish grin. She's the only one who gets to see him like this. The only person he trusts enough to fall asleep next to.
She smooths her fingers over the top of the scars and presses down with her thumb. It's strange to suddenly think about how she could kill someone in their sleep if she really wanted to. Not that she ever would nor ever want to, and especially not Scourge. But she could. It's a thought she would've never entertained before she met him. Or, at least, not a thought she would have let herself have. A field medic isn't supposed to consider such things. Fiona of the Freedom Fighters isn't supposed to think about hurting someone else. Sonic's girlfriend isn't supposed to be cheating on him in favor of his evil double. She wrinkles her snout. She's getting tired of everyone telling her what she's supposed to do.
Scourge grabs her wrist and pulls her hand off where she dug her claws in. Scourge looks down at her, eyes chipped slate under the dark. “Watch the claws, will ya?" Scourge says with a sleep addled rasp.
She flexes her hand in his grip, laughing. “I thought you liked it when I scratched you up.”
He drops her hand. “Yeah, when we're fuckin’ not when I'm tryna get some shut-eye. Go use Blue as your scratchin’ post.”
Her ears flip back.
Scourge laughs. “I jus’ don't getcha at all sometimes.”
She bares her teeth at him.
“Don't get all friggin’ growly with me. You know what I mean,” Scourge says. “You're the one who's puttin’ off the big reveal, red. I say we jus’ rub it in his face ‘n move on already. But you wanna play hero and get your kicks too.”
She pushes herself up, glaring down at him. “I don't want to play hero.”
“Yeah? Well, it don't look like it from here. I think ya like it. Why else wouldja stick around?”
“It's not about that, it's—”
“Is it him?” Scourge asks, lip curled up to show his teeth. “Jus’ can't get over ol shiny n blue, eh? I know he ain't bangin’ better than me so it's gotta be somethin' else about ‘im. What is it, Fi? Is it the looks, the charm, the dopey wit?”
She shoves herself to her feet. “You're a jackass.”
“Yeah.” Scourge laughs. “But you already knew that, didntcha? Ain't that why you came to me in the first place? If you wanted nice, you woulda gone to someone else, baby."
She wrinkles her snout, tail lashing. She wants to punch the grin off Scourge's face, but she knows it'll just prove every point he's made here.
“Truth's gonna have to come out eventually, Fi,” Scourge says, propping himself up on his elbows. “And here I thought after everythin’ you'd wanna break poor Blue's moronic little heart more than anybody.”
“I do.”
Scourge scoffs. “Sure ya do.” Scourge looks up at the moon and then back at her, scowling. “Better run back to your little Boy Scout.”
“Scourge—”
“Clock's tickin’.” Scourge says, sitting up fully and scrubbing at his quills. “This whole thing goes ass up if you decide to stick around. ‘less that's whatcha want?” Scourge smiles, teeth shiny under the moonlight.
She crawls into what feels like a stranger's bed.
Weeks spent here. Nights. Lazy days when the sun comes through the window long before either of them wake up. Jules and Bernie in the kitchen, content to let their son have his rare moment of rest. She knows without a doubt by now, they're undeniably good people. She's had more than a few breakfasts with them, Sonic sleeping well past noon. Sometimes she has to wonder if it's a lot to carry on his shoulders, the weight of the world, or if he was always like this.
Bernie waved it off as typical when she asked, laughing into her mug and smiling at her over the rim of it. He used to sleep through the day as a baby, scared me half to death, but the doctor always insisted we let him rest. I suppose it's a hard habit to break now. Baby pictures, embarrassing stories, all the accoutrements of a good girlfriend. A perfect couple. We're just glad he's happy. Bernie had said when she asked the both of them why they let her stay over so often. And you seem like such a nice girl, Fiona. Jules’ eyes had narrowed at that, a playful protectiveness in the robotic display of them. Is there a reason we shouldn't trust you with our son? Bernie smacked him on the shoulder with a metallic clank and Jules laughed, binary intonations to it that still didn't strip the mirth from it.
A happy family. Too good to be true. Somehow, it's always just too good to be true.
She pulls the sheets tighter over her shoulder and listens to Sonic turn in his sleep, an arm falling over her waist. Her ears press back. He sticks his muzzle right in-between her shoulders and hums contently. She can feel the truth stuck behind her teeth, sour on her tongue. She wonders if he can somehow feel everywhere Scourge touched her. She wonders how he can still so easily trust her after everything.
Whatcha see is whatcha get, babe. There's an authenticity to Scourge under all the puffed up strut and pomp. He says what he means every time, regardless of what anyone else thinks. Despite everything, she knows she can at least trust what Scourge is saying to her.
“...where'd you go?” Sonic asks, muttering it against her fur.
She pulls taut, eyes stuck to the wall. “Just met up with an old friend, didn't expect to be out that long.”
Sonic hums his acknowledgement. She can't tell if it's skeptical or not. She can't tell much about him when she can't see his face. It's another thing Scourge and Sonic have in common; they both give away the most with their eyes.
“Was it Bean ‘n Bark?” Sonic asks.
“Yeah...”
It's a pitiful answer for a pitiful question. She knows Sonic can't be this obtuse. Surely the illustrious Hero of Mobius can tell when his girlfriend's cheating on him. She wrinkles her muzzle. Surely Sonic knows as well as anyone that these things never last. None of it does. The second you're smiling, that's when the other shoe drops. If something's just too good to be true then it's probably a lie. No—
It's always a lie.
Maybe Blue just needs a long overdue reality check, and she knows just the way to give him one.